It was about when I turned thirty and I realized I had a different perspective on life. In my mind, I called it “becoming a person,” but I suppose it could also be becoming an adult.
It was a sense of being able to handle problems—any problem that I faced—on my own. It was a sense of confidence in myself and my abilities—at least on a day-to-day living level. It was the realization that I would never again need any help from my parents, which is interesting, since it came about ten years after the time at which I realized my parents would not be there if I really needed them.
They had assisted me in between, but it wasn’t because I desperately need the help. Still, I think of them as fair weather parents. If I’m doing fine, they are around, but if not, they are nowhere to be seen.
Of course, when I had children, I began to see adulthood in a completely different light. It wasn’t so much that I now was responsible for someone else—although that was certainly true, but that I began to understand what it was like to care for a child. I felt like I was having experiences that tied me to the vast majority of humanity. We had all gone through this and it was something that united us.
When I became a parent, I felt prepared. All my life, I had been leery of children, but that was because I thought my parenting ideas would be considered inappropriate by others. I don’t believe in innocence. When I had my own child, I could now parent as I saw fit, and no one would be able to say otherwise. So I gained a new adult-like confidence.
I guess it was like two different adult stages—adult I and adult II. I think it’s about your relationship to the world, and the depth of your ability to handle what happens.